


Female Bug

by littlecloud



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen, Menstruation, Secret Santa, small angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecloud/pseuds/littlecloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time since they left, after her dad died, Charlie had been struck by what he called the ‘female bug.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Female Bug

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gizzi1213](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gizzi1213/gifts).



“What, uh. What did you do about this back home?”  
  
Miles stood tall against the grass of their camp, unable to face Charlie. She lay on her side – a parallelogram shape of a girl. Her knees were drawn so far up to her chin that it was painful to see, and the only comfort she could find was from the soothing rhythm of rocking back and forth.  
  
The journey to find Danny was, expectedly, not easy. Passing through Chicago deregulated her body; a drastic change in temperatures, and company, and daily life confused Charlie so much that she could hardly eat for the first week or so. Maggie insisted on brewing her teas and sneaking plants into them for nutrition. It tasted disgusting, but listening to her father’s girlfriend complain whilst traveling nonstop was much worse.  
  
When Maggie died, Charlie realized she never had to eat again. There was no one to tell her to, or guilt-trip her into taking care of herself. Her Uncle Miles, he cared. But about their mission, and the _objective_ – not a girl who had never left her small village, unversed in war.  
  
For the first time since they left, after her dad died, Charlie had been struck by what he called the ‘female bug.’ She was over a month late, and although it never impacted her mobility before, things were different when she had a bed to go home to at the end of the day. Hunting, her bows and arrows, did not take the strength or endurance that wielding guns and running incessantly did. And without Maggie, there was no relief of the pain – not a warm water bottle against her tailbone, no natural remedy to lighten the flow.  
  
She tried to cope with it on her own. Leaves were not too uncomfortable down her pants, nor was the weather severe enough to irritate what already felt like pools of fire surfacing beneath her belly and near her temples.  
  
It just got to be too much. They set up camp, using leather jackets and knapsacks as pillows. When Miles said that Charlie could not borrow his, she cried; she couldn’t help it. The only thing she could remember of Maggie’s advice was that it helped to lay on your side with something soft between your legs to relieve the pressure from your back. On the worst of days, she would massage the dips in Charlie’s back and hips, the tension eventually having to loosen.  
  
Eventually, she found the air to answer her uncle, amidst a flood of memories and sensations. “Maggie would help. She would give me some of her medicines, massage my back, things like that. I don’t know. She just…”  
  
A hiccup, a sob releasing itself.  
  
“She knew what to do. It hurts so badly without her.”  
  
She cried unhesitatingly, realizing again that everyone she loved was gone – that her own uncle cared a minimal amount, just enough not to leave her. She couldn’t even be sure about that. Charlie would do anything to save her brother, through the most pain and discomfort, but in the process, she had no one to save herself.  
  
Miles scrambled to his knees, dirt mucking up his jeans, and said, “Kid, kid. Stop.” She was unresponsive, except for a shake of her head. The tears were creating puddles on her clothing, dark stains on light fabric.  
  
“Charlie.” Miles tried to sound less annoyed. “Hey, c’mon. You can have my jacket. C’mere.”  
  
Silently, he rearranged her to lay beside him, covered in a variety of clothes and snuggling on top of their makeshift bed. They faced away from each other – somewhat in embarrassment. While her tears simmered to an end, he pressed his thumbs very carefully into her back, the slightest of a massage. “Feel better, kid,” he whispered, the heat from his breath traveling into her hair and onto the sensitive skin of her neck.  
  
Everyone left her, and maybe he would too. Just not tonight.


End file.
